The Loneliest Girl in the World
by octoberland
Summary: A catastrophe of planetary proportions forces Jane and Darcy to take refuge on Asgard. All well and good for Jane. She has Thor to turn to during these dark times. But what about Darcy? Can the loneliest girl in the world find solace in the arms of a consummate liar? Or will Loki's silver tongue break what's left of her spirit?
1. Chapter 1

**I...did not expect to be doing this. I've always enjoyed the Marvel films, and of course, liked Loki. But for some reason as of late Loki has crawled under my skin and stayed there. He wants my attention all the time. Read me. Look at me. Watch me. I blame Tumblr. Which is where I got this idea. This was supposed to just be a drabble based off some prompts I found on Tumblr. I've never written in this universe. I'm not nearly as schooled in it as I'd like to be before writing. But when I sat down tonight the words kept coming. I can't promise they're good. I don't have a beta and I've never written this fandom before. But hopefully someone will find it enjoyable.**

**The prompt for this was the word 'lonely'. If people like this I can absolutely continue it. If not, then I'll just move onto another prompt.**

**I apologize in advance for any errors. I own squat. No copyright infringement intended. Feedback would be lovely. Thank you for reading.**

Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster sat on the green expanse of lawn facing the Eiffel Tower. It was Jane's birthday and they'd spent the day celebrating by wandering the city. It was night now. The Tower was lit, bright and shining against the night sky. People were still milling about, talking and laughing and kissing. Darcy and Jane sat on their sweaters and shared a bottle of cheap champagne. Jane looked wistfully up at the Tower and sighed.

"Stop that," said Darcy.

"Stop what?" Jane tried to feign innocence.

"Does he even know it's your birthday?" asked Darcy after she took another swig from the bottle.

"No." whispered Jane as she looked back down at her skirt.

"Then stop sitting there pining for him. This isn't a Jane Austen novel. This is a Jane Fucking Foster extravaganza. Now drink!" she ordered her friend.

Jane smiled and took the bottle from Darcy. "Bottoms up," she said before taking a big sip.

It had been nearly a year since the Chitauri attack and there'd been no word from Thor other than the assurances from Tony Stark that he was fine and well and would be in touch. She'd given up trying to build a wormhole to find him but had stayed on at the Norway facility at Tony's behest. It hadn't hurt that Mr. Stark had made a sizable contribution to fund whatever project she deemed fit. And getting Darcy to stay hadn't taken much more than a few pouty looks and some fancy cupcakes.

"We're going to need more alcohol," said Jane as she tipped the empty bottle upside down. The few remaining drops slid out, illuminated by the lights of the Tower, and fell to the dewy grass beneath them.

"I've got us covered," replied Darcy. She picked up her purse, which was more like a satchel, and fished around inside for the flask she'd stashed there earlier.

She was mid reach when the lights went out.

"The hell…" she whined.

"Huh," said Jane.

Darcy shifted her attention away from her purse and looked around. It wasn't just the Tower lights that were out. So far as she could tell, it was the whole city.

She stood, clutching her purse tightly to her side. She'd hoped that standing would help, that maybe she'd see something she couldn't while sitting but there was nothing. She heard people whispering and giggling, could hear someone stumble off to her left and swear loudly in French which sounded so much better than when she did it. In the distance she heard an alarm and then the sound of metal crashing against metal which she assumed was cars.

Darcy looked up at the sky and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

"Jane. Jane, honey, get up," said Darcy, her eyes still peeled on the sky. She made a motion with her hand for Jane to get up even though Jane probably couldn't see it.

"My phone's not working," said Jane.

Darcy looked down at her friend but she could barely even make out her shape.

"Get up. Now." She said, grabbing Jane and pulling her off the ground.

"Darcy! Ow! What the heck?"

When she could feel that Jane was standing next to her, albeit swaying a bit, she grabbed Jane's head and pointed it at the sky.

"LOOK." said Darcy.

It took her a moment but then she got it and what she saw terrified her.

"Oh. My. God." She said, annunciating every word slowly and carefully.

The lights in the City of Light weren't the only ones that had gone out. The stars were gone. The moon was gone. Something was very, very wrong.

"That's not possible," whispered Jane. But she knew better. Lots of things were possible. Lots of very bad things.

"We need to get out of here," she said to Darcy. She grabbed her sweater off the ground and latched onto Darcy. They didn't make it two steps before the sky opened up.

There was a crash of lightning followed by a thunderclap. For a brief moment everything was illuminated. After the darkness they'd been sitting in it nearly blinded them, burning white streaks into their retinas so that they had to close their eyes and rub them. When they opened them again Thor stood before them. They could just make him out by the light of a nearby bush that had caught fire.

"Happy Birthday?" said Darcy quizzically as she looked over at Jane. Jane just shrugged her shoulders and Thor raised his eyebrows.

"We've no time for celebrations," he said, drily. "Come. We must leave this place and quickly," he said while holding his arms open to them.

"And by leave, you mean hug?" said Darcy, referring to his outstretched arms.

Thor sighed and rolled his eyes. He reached them in one stride and wrapped his arms around the two girls. "Hold fast," he instructed them.

What happened next reminded Darcy of the time she'd ridden the Turkish Twist at the county fair. The "room" had spun around so quickly that they didn't need any sort of belt or restraints when the floor dropped out beneath her. Gravity did all the work. They'd doctored the ride up for the nighttime crowd too. There were bright flashing lights and loud music and everyone was screaming and laughing.

This is what that was like except no one was laughing. Screaming, yes, but not laughing. Darcy screamed. She screamed and clawed at Thor as best she could and shut her eyes tight when she realized that what she saw flying past her was galaxies.

Like the ride at the fair the trip only lasted a few minutes. She felt herself unceremoniously dropped and when she cracked her eyes open she could hardly believe what she saw. Gold. Everywhere gold. And there was Thor in all his 'I'm a God' glory, holding Jane to him. They were standing in a great hall. Everything was gilt and outside she could see lush greens and the light of a setting sun. The windows alone must have been at least two stories tall.

There was what she assumed were guards but they looked like something out of a book: tall, muscular, adorned in golden plated armor head to toe, great massive helmets with horns upon their heads.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," she said to no one in particular, wide eyed.

"Kansas?" inquired a voice behind her.

She'd been so awestruck by her surroundings that she hadn't really paying attention to her personal space.

She turned.

_Monster_, she thought, _murderer, traitor_.

Loki stood before her. Trickster God, Mischief Maker. Killer.

She backed up, nearly tripping over herself.

"Guys," she said, looking over her shoulder. "Guys." She said again, trying to get the attention of Thor and Jane.

"You need not worry." said Thor.

"Like hell," replied Darcy.

"I'm afraid your troubles are far greater than my brother standing before you."

"I doubt it," she mumbled.

"What is it?" asked Jane. "Why did you bring us here?"

"I have very grave news for you. For both of you."

Darcy was still eyeing Loki who looked at her disinterestedly. One might make the mistake of thinking he was bored but she could tell he was waiting for something.

"Lady Darcy, please, I need your attention," Thor implored.

Darcy turned to him, begrudgingly.

"What?" she asked.

"There is no easy way to bear such news easily so I shall just say it." He paused, making sure he had their attention.

"Your world is no more."

Neither Jane nor Darcy said anything. They stared at Thor trying to process what he'd just said.

Jane's mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

Finally, Darcy spoke. "I don't believe you," she said. _No. No, no, no, no_.

"I'm sorry. It's true." He took a stride towards her as though to comfort her but she stepped back and nearly collided with Loki who'd managed to invade her personal space again. She backed away from him too.

"Prove it," she dared.

Thor lowered his eyes. "Follow me," he said.

Darcy and Jane followed him, flanked by Loki (which Darcy did not like AT ALL) and a handful of guards.

Darcy looped her arm around Jane's. "What's going on?" she asked her friend.

"I don't know," said Jane, but Darcy could see the wheels in her head working, trying to compute what Thor had said. It was impossible. They were just there. Worlds don't just disappear. But as they walked down the vast hallway Darcy's heart sank deeper with each step.

They stepped into a darkened room. There was a pool of water in the center, its surface black as the night they'd just come from. They gathered at its edge and waited. The silence felt deafening to Darcy. She had to fight to keep from tapping her foot. Loki stood across from them, watching her. She was about to make a snide comment directed at him when she noticed the water ripple. It moved in tiny waves, the ambient light of the room reflected on its surface, creating shapes and shadows and patterns.

The patterns grew, forming into things she recognized: There was Mars, dusty and red. An old satellite, clunky and worn. Earth's moon, bright from the glow of the sun. And there, in pieces, was Earth. It was spread out into large chunks, broken. No one could have survived.

"No," said Jane quietly. She held her hand out as though to touch the image but the water receded and the image faded away.

"I'm gonna be sick," said Darcy. She held her hand over her mouth and ran from the room.

Loki followed her. He found her bent over, hands on her knees, dry heaving.

"You," she said when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. "You did this! Didn't you?" she wailed. She charged him but quickly found herself caged by Thor's strong arms. "Let me go!" she screamed, kicking her feet out.

The God of Mischief smirked.

"He did not do this thing." said Thor. "You have my word."

"Bullshit." She said. Tears streaked her face.

"Who?" croaked Jane, "Who then? Who did this?"

"We're not sure," said Thor, "but we will not rest until we find out."

"Then how do you know it wasn't _him_?" said Darcy.

"Because we've taken his magic away from him as punishment. He could not have possibly done this."

Darcy slumped in Thor's arms.

"Earth was under my protection. I have failed you," he said. He turned Darcy so that she was facing him. "I cannot recompense what has been taken from you but I swear to you my fealty. So long as you both live I am at your service."

She could see then, how broken he was, and it hit her. This was real. This was really happening. She was never going home again. Every single person she ever knew, aside from Jane, was dead. Selvig was dead. The Avengers were dead. The sweet young girl who'd made her coffee that morning in the café was dead. The dog she'd petted on the street corner was dead. The children she'd seen playing in the fountain, the tourists at the Louvre, her family; everything was gone. She grabbed Jane's purse off her shoulder and marched back into the great hall.

There was a great table in the great hall and this is where she dumped out the contents of both their purses. She began to organize the contents side by side. She heard the others enter, their footfalls soft on the shiny floors.

"What are you doing, sweetie?" she heard Jane ask. She stilled when she felt Jane's hand on her arm.

"This is it," said Darcy, matter of factly. She'd stopped crying and was focused solely on her task. She continued on without even looking at Jane or the others.

"This is all that's left of humanity. A couple of cell phones, an iPod, my hairbrush, your comb, some stale gum, lip gloss, cheap rum, a notebook and pen, hotel key cards, wallets, and the clothes on our back. That's it. That's all we have left. No more Dunkin' Donuts, no more McDonald's French fries, no more Christmas or summers at the lake or movies. I guess I don't have to worry about my student loans," she said. She laughed bitterly, her arms rising out and then hands slapping back down on her thighs. "There won't ever be anymore anything again," she said, staring at all the little things she'd laid out on the table.

"Here," said Jane. She began to collect the items, divvying them up to each respective purse. "Maybe we should get settled in for the night." She looked at Thor, imploringly.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Of course," He motioned to one of the guards.

Within an hour Darcy found herself ensconced in a palatial room fit, in her mind anyway, for a queen. It was a far cry from her dorm room days. As with everything else in this place her room was dripping gold. The walls were gold, her bed sheets were gold, and the furniture had gold detailing. And everything was big too, as though made for giants. Her bed easily could have slept four; the hearth was big enough to cook in, the ceilings cavernous. Under other circumstances she might have relished this, might have pranced around pretending to be a princess. But not tonight. Tonight she fell face first into the bed and spent her time switching between screaming into the pillows and sobbing hysterically.

The next few days were a blur to her. She'd fallen into an almost catatonic state. She'd never been prone to bouts of melancholy but neither had she ever felt such loneliness before. She'd not seen Jane since they arrived. The two of them, Thor and Jane, seemed to have squirreled themselves away in his quarters and forgotten all about her. _How nice_, she thought_. Jane gets to be the heroine of our little apocalypse, maybe even queen someday. Meanwhile I have to suffer through this alone_.

Attendants came and went, offering her food, taking measurements for clothing, showing her where and how to bathe. Some offered kind words but most were silent, unsure of what to say in the wake of such tragedy. She would nod, utter a weak "Thank you," and then turn away. She didn't eat. She bathed only one time in four days, standing dully beneath the small waterfall, letting it cascade over her and wondering if she could perhaps drown in it.

At night she lay awake. When she closed her eyes she saw her Earth shattered like a child's toy broken underfoot. Sometimes she thought she could hear screams.

She took to sitting on the balcony of her room. The windows slid apart, receding into the wall. She set up a chair and curled a golden knit throw around her shoulders, knees bunched up against her chest.

Asgard was a quiet place at night. The normally golden hues turned silver in the light of its moons. She could see firelight here and there. Sometimes she could hear men quarreling in the way that men do when they don't really mean it. Sometimes she heard singing and music. Other times she could even hear lovemaking. Not tonight though. Not at this hour. It was late. Well past the midnight hour she was sure. She looked aimlessly out at the city, wondering at all the people therein, wondering what her place in all this could possibly be.

"You do not sleep," said a voice from the shadows to her left.

"Jesus," she said, nearly knocking her chair over as she shifted to get up.

"Sit. Please." Loki motioned towards the abandoned chair.

"What do you want?" she asked, clutching the throw tighter around her shoulders and eyeing the big wooden door to her chamber.

"I mean you no harm. I wish only to speak with you."

"Please," he said again, motioning to the chair again.

Darcy did as he said. She was too tired to argue and wasn't entirely sure if she cared what happened to her anyway.

Loki smiled, pleased that she had done as he asked.

He leaned against the balustrade, arms crossed over his chest, dark hair cascading around his face.

"I've been watching you," he said.

Darcy shot him a dirty look.

"What kind of planet is this?" she mumbled.

Loki chuckled.

"Well, you are in my realm, and I'm curious."

"About what?" she asked.

"What does it feel like?" he asked.

_Is he fucking for real right now? _She thought to herself. She was about to get up and clock him but then she saw the look on his face. There was no malice in it. No mirth. He seemed, genuinely, curious.

"It feels like the end of the world," she said and chuckled at her own joke.

Her gaze returned to the sleeping city.

"It feels like the time Jackie Carpenter broke up with me under the bleachers and then the very next day I saw him making out with Sally Lindberg. I lost my virginity to that fucker and he didn't even care. It feels like when my grandmother died and I saw her dead body at the funeral and my heart never left my throat that whole night. It feels like every nightmare I've ever had coming at me all at once. It feels like nothing is ever going to be right again. Like I'm a walking National Geographic special on extinction except there won't be anyone left to remember me."

A single tear slid down her cheek.

"I feel like the loneliest girl in the world."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! Thank you to everyone who read the last chapter. As you can see I have decided to continue this story. I have a beta, LaTessitrice. Surprise, surprise. There will be at least seven chapters, possibly more. The word prompt for this chapter was 'lick'.**

**As always, no copyright infringement intended. I own squat.**

**Special thank you to my Twi-readers who took a chance on this. Hope you continue to enjoy it.**

**Reviews are love and we all need love. Thanks for reading!**

Darcy watched the flames as they licked and danced their way along the stone of the hearth in her room. She was sitting cross-legged in front of it, the heat so strong she could barely stand it. Wild thoughts flitted through her head and she blamed it on this place with its magic and gods and legends. She wanted to let her hair down, strip herself naked and disappear into the forest with the moon on her back. Instead she contemplated the items she'd placed on the floor before her, the remnants of her old life. She debated throwing them into the fire, a sort of cleansing or rebirth in her mind, when _he_ stepped out of the shadows.

"Whatever are you doing?" he asked.

"Loki, I've had a long day," she said, exasperated, nearly rolling her eyes.

"I should silence that tongue of yours until you've learned some manners." His tone is ice and venom but she does not heed the warning. Her mind had already turned back to the events of the day.

_Knock, knock, knock._

She'd expected to find her assigned attendant when she opened the door that morning but instead Jane was standing there. Her eyes were red, puffy, and she looked smaller somehow. Darcy guessed she hadn't slept much either. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment and then rushed into each other's arms. Jane sobbed openly and it was all Darcy could do not to break down again.

Early morning light seeped into the halls setting everything aglow. Darcy's attendant and a woman she assumed was Jane's, stood a few paces away in idle chatter.

"I would ask how you are," said Darcy, "but I think I know the answer," she said sadly as she pulled away from her friend. Jane laughed a small quiet laugh and smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry," she started to say but Darcy shushed her.

"It's fine. I get it. I'd probably want to get lost in my man-meat too if I had any." Her mind flickered briefly to Loki but she pushed that thought away.

"Don't you look spiffy" she said instead, referring to Jane's dress. Jane was wearing a floor length purple gown that gathered at the waist. Its open neck and long sleeves conveyed elegance and maturity. _Fit for a queen_, she thought.

"You've an audience with the All-Father today," said one of the attendants, clearly taking a cue from Darcy's compliment. "I've a dress for you too," she continued.

The next two hours were spent primping and preening though to Darcy it nearly felt like torture. They'd tried to bathe her but she'd assured them she was perfectly capable of doing that herself. She lost the battle when it came to her hair though. They insisted on brushing it out and sticking it with pins and combs and even some kind of scented powder till it sat on her head like something out of a bridal magazine.

A servant brought them breakfast. She eyed it warily. She'd hardly eaten a thing since arriving, and in fact, hadn't eaten any Asgardian food at all, opting instead to consume, in tiny portions, the last remaining granola bar that she'd found stuffed in her sweater pocket. Jane, on the other hand, obviously had no compunctions about otherworldly food. She was currently tucking into a large piece of bread smeared with fruit and what looked like honey. Darcy's stomach rumbled.

"Fuck it," she said, and picked up the other piece of bread that Jane had prepared for her.

The first taste on her tongue was slightly bitter, almost like rye bread. Then, as she chewed, there was a burst of tartness from the fruit followed by the sweetness of the honey.

"Holy fuckballs!" She said, while still chewing. Her attendant eyed her curiously. Darcy was already reaching for another piece before she'd even finished the first.

While they ate breakfast, washing down the lumps of bread with some kind of milk (Darcy didn't want to know what kind), Jane tried to fill her in on what she could. It wasn't much seeing as Jane had never actually been here before. She told Darcy about Odin and Frigga, about the Bifrost and the Nine Realms, which was actually stuff Darcy knew already but it was better conversation than the alternative, which was to talk about Earth.

When they were finished with breakfast the two girls stood in front of the large mirror in Darcy's quarters.

"Whoa," said Darcy. The woman who stood before her was nearly unrecognizable.

Darcy's dress was also floor length but hers was deep blue in color. It contrasted nicely with her fair skin, making her look even paler than usual. Unlike Jane's dress, Darcy's was sleeveless and had a deep v neck. Certainly not something she would have chosen for herself given her rather ample assets but the beaded choker the attendant had placed around her neck raised the look from trashy to classy. The tiny black beads glimmered in the sun that shone through her window and made her think of a spider web wet with rain. Her hair, she realized now, had been styled in a loose braid turned up on itself, stray tendrils spilling softly around her face. The only hint of anything amiss was, like Jane, her eyes, which were also puffy and red and had dark circles under them. Still, _not bad_, she thought, for the last two humans alive.

Jane took her hand. "Well then," she said. "I guess we should go. Don't want to keep the King waiting." She looked just as nervous as Darcy felt.

Out in the hall a row of guards waited to escort them. Jane and Darcy walked side by side with three guards in front and three behind them. She wasn't entirely sure if they were guests or prisoners at this point but she kept her mouth shut and just observed her surroundings. Somewhere, she heard what sounded like fighting, the clash of metal on metal and the sound of grunting as if from a blow. She could smell food being cooked, something meaty and fat. Distant bird song filtered through the halls and she could smell the lush green of the vines that climbed the outer walls. She noted that they passed a room with women weaving tapestries and another that looked like a great library.

Finally, they reached their destination. They stood before two massive doors laid intricately with curving lines and what looked like some kind of language in small, delicate writing. Two of the guards stepped forward and in precise union swung open the doors, heaving with might, their muscles straining in doing so.

Before them lay a great hall, far greater than the one they'd arrived in. It was filled with people dressed in what Darcy assumed was Asgard finery. They lined the walls and she thought there must be hundreds of them but they made no sound as Darcy and Jane entered. The floor gleamed and their steps echoed off the walls as they walked. At the other end of the room there was a dais leading up to a throne befit any king of legend, which Darcy realized he was, and rivaling that of any that ever existed on Earth. This far back Darcy could only make out shapes. She could tell that someone was sitting in the throne, Odin, she assumed. And that there were people lined along the steps leading up to him. One of them she was sure was Thor. He stood heads above the rest and his bright red cape was a dead giveaway.

As they moved closer she was able to discern four warrior types to the right and she quickly realized it was the same four she'd met in New Mexico. One of them, the handsome blonde, flashed her a brilliant smile and nodded in her direction. She was about to smile back when she heard a strange hissing sound to her left. She looked and nearly tripped over the hem of her gown. There, aside Thor stood Loki. Not the Loki she'd grown accustomed to seeing the last few days, the one that snuck into her room at night and watched her watching the world, occasionally asking her ridiculous questions. No. This Loki was the one of the legends, the one whispered about around campfires and whose tales were told to frighten naughty children.

A gold helmet sat atop his head with metal horns curling up and reaching for the sky. His arms were covered with intricate metal braces as was his chest and thighs. Black leather peeked out from the places not covered by armor and a long verdant cape flowed from his shoulders. Worst of all though was the look on his face. _If looks could kill_, thought Darcy, _every person in this room would be dead right now_.

Darcy shivered which seemed to draw Loki's attention away from the object of his hatred. His eyes scanned her and a look passed over his face that she didn't recognize. She couldn't be sure without her glasses but she thought she saw his nostrils flare.

She felt Jane tugging on her hand and realized she had stopped and was staring at Loki as brazenly as he'd been staring at her. She grasped Jane's hand harder and mentally slapped herself out of her stupor focusing instead on the other people. Thor also stood to her left but his eyes were trained solely on Jane. They beamed with pride and love and as Jane and Darcy neared he descended the steps to take a place by Jane's side. Also to the left, at the top of the steps, stood an older, though no less beautiful woman, who she presumed to be Odin's wife, Frigga. The woman looked down on them kindly and with a warm smile.

The man on the throne looked every bit how she'd imagined God looked when she was a small child and still prone to believing in such things. That is, if God wore armor and an eye patch. His long white hair and matching white beard were exactly what she had envisioned but from there all precepts dissipated. This man, despite his age, looked to her as though he could battle twenty men and win with one arm tied behind his back. He reeked of power to her. His body was strong and his one good eye sharp as a tack. He bore no warm smiles or kind nods and she instinctively lowered her gaze when he looked upon her.

He rose, slowly, though she doubted it was from weakness and suspected more that it was for show. In one hand he held a scepter and she heard it clang against the hard floor as he stood. The sound reverberated throughout the room, traveling right through her, and just when she thought she'd recovered from it he picked up the scepter and slammed purposefully down on the floor so that it rang throughout the room making it shake as though the ground would swallow them whole. He did this seven more times and Darcy was sure the whole of the kingdom must be hearing it too. She'd covered her ears with her hands to try to dim the tide of sound and felt her teeth chatter in the wake of it.

"Eight," said the man that stood before her, his face stern and tinged with darkness. "Eight branches are all that are left of the sacred tree that binds us together."

He turned his good eye on Jane and Darcy and his features softened infinitesimally. "And two," he continued as he made his way down the steps. "Two are all that are left of Midgard, our sister planet, whom we swore to protect."

He now stood directly before Darcy and Jane. "In all my years," he said, "of which there have been many, never have I seen such a thing as what has transpired these last few days." Darcy heard a hint of fatigue in his voice and something akin to shame. He took, first Darcy's hand, and then Jane's, kissing each in turn. "Asgard is your home now. You will want for nothing. You will dine at my table, live under my roof, be as my own, always. And when the time comes," he said, the darkness returning to his face, "I will ride to my death to avenge what has been taken from us. By my blood, I swear it shall be done."

"I leave you now, to the good graces of my wife, whose company is far more palatable than my own."

The older woman stepped down and placed her hand in Odin's. She kissed him briefly on the cheek and then turned her attention to the girls while he resumed his seat on the throne.

"Jane, Darcy," she said, nodding at them and smiling warmly. "May I?" she asked, as she opened her arms, clearly wanting to hug them. Jane and Darcy nodded yes and Frigga embraced them. "You both look so beautiful," she whispered before placing a kiss on each of their foreheads.

"Come," she said, taking their hands. "Let me show you your new home."

Though she meant well, the words twisted inside of Darcy. Darcy didn't want a new home. She wanted her old home. She wanted her messy bed and her morning coffee and her Sunday Skype sessions with her mother. She wanted scrambled eggs with ketchup and cheap tabloid magazines and stupid movies with bad punch lines. She wanted to be cooped up in that boring lab with Jane, wanted to be there when her cousin's baby was born, wanted her father to walk her down the aisle someday. But not even one of those things would ever happen. So even though Frigga's and Odin's words were meant to comfort her she didn't feel comforted. She felt cheated. She wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have died on that planet with everyone else.

As she walked out of the room guided by the Queen of Asgard, Darcy Lewis began to feel the first seeds of anger planting within her. Throughout the day those seeds grew, unfurling with every kind word and gesture so that by the time she was finally able to retire to her chamber she had no patience left for anyone, especially not Loki.

Ignoring the God of Mischief's threat to silence her tongue, Darcy focused instead on releasing her hair from its binds while staring blankly at the fire before her. She tugged and pulled to no avail growing more frustrated by the second.

"What the hell!" she growled while clawing at her hair. It was the last remnant of the day, the last reminder of the smothering kindness she'd received, and she was just _done_ with it. She got up onto her knees and looked around wildly for a pair of scissors, ready to cut every last lock off if that's what it took.

Before she could even register any movement Loki was behind her. His hands tugged at hers pulling them away from her head and down to her sides.

"Get off me!" she screamed, kicking her feet out in an effort to stand.

"Be still," he said. The edge in his words brooked no argument and seemed to touch something buried deep within her. She did as he said; stilling immediately, though her breath fell fast and hard with the strain of her outburst.

She felt him run his hand over her hair and she thought she heard him whisper too but her heart was thundering in her ears so loudly she couldn't be sure. What she was sure of was that within minutes her hair fell loose and smooth around her shoulders, free from the braid and pins and who knew what else.

Without a word, Loki rose and left the room.

That night Darcy slept; the first real and true sleep since landing on Asgard. And when she dreamt it was not of broken earths and dying people. That night she dreamt of snakes; hundreds of snakes dripping from a great tree and slithering towards her. When they reached her they formed into one large snake the size of a tall man. It slithered up into her bed, weaving its way between her legs, and rested its long body atop hers, head nestled at the base of her neck, fast little tongue flicking out and tickling her throat. It was heavy. Heavy as any man and she found that she could not move, not that she wanted to. There was a strange sort of comfort in the weight of this creature upon her. It gave her something to focus on so that when she closed her eyes she didn't immediately spiral into a panic attack. It grounded her and made her breathing thick and heavy. She shifted purposefully every so often so that she could feel its slick skin sliding against her own.

In this dream she grew tired, became a dream within a dream. She drifted deeper into that realm of sleep within sleep, her weary soul laying claim to its much needed rest. As she slipped from the waking world of her dream she heard the snake whisper into her ear. It spoke to her as a lover, dark and violent as a coming storm, making promises or threats, she knew not which. No boy had ever spoken such things to her. She shuddered once, a cold shiver running up her spine, before she lost consciousness and passed mercifully into a peaceful slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has alerted, favorited, or left a review for this story. It really means a lot to me. I hope I can continue to entertain you. This chapter has some gruesome elements in it, fyi. There are some direct references to mythology and a reference to a Pablo Neruda poem. No copyright infringement is intended anywhere. This chapter was beta'd by the lovely LaTessitrice. You should read her work if you haven't already. Any errors left are my own.**

**Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

Loki Laufeyson. Loki Odinson. Loki Friggason. A man divided, and in being divided, fell. Pushed and pulled this way and that. A perfect storm of fate and the ultimate in nature versus nurture: abandoned at birth, left to die, taken in by the great All-Father as a means to an end, and loved, truly, by his adoptive mother, an Aesir. The Dark Prince of the House of Odin felt out of place in all corners of the universe and though he'd deny it to his death the one thing he craved more than anything was acceptance, which was a gift he could not even give himself. All of these things conspired, tragically, to set in motion the events that led to his fall from grace: his plot to take the throne, his attempt at murdering Thor, his plans to destroy Jotunheim and eventually to become ruler of Midgard. He failed at every turn, and in failing, fell further into madness.

For his crimes against humanity and against his kingdom he should have rightly been put to death, and would have been had it not been for the grace of Odin. Odin: who felt responsible, who blamed himself, who in the darkest chambers of his heart regretted taking in the Jotun child. In his great mercy he chose to merely imprison Loki, stripping him of all magik, which to Loki might as well have been death. By the time he was released, in no small part at Frigga's behest, he was a shell of the man he used to be. Which was, perhaps, not a bad thing, at least not in the eyes of his kin. Where once there had been a semblance of trust now lived only suspicion and anger. Loki heard the whispers in the halls; saw the furtive glances and the wide berths given him. He told himself it didn't matter; convinced himself that it was amusing, because that was better than the truth, better than caring.

The night Midgard fell, Loki had been in his chambers studying. He'd felt the subtle shift in energy that meant someone was using the Scrying Room, his mother, he assumed, followed soon after by the bellowing of his idiot not-brother, Thor. There was much commotion, no small amount of arguing, and then his brother's complete and utter dismissal of his father's wishes.

"I am going, All-Father. You cannot stop me. I pray only that you allow us to return." He had said in a grim tone.

Loki wished he could have seen the look on Odin's face when Thor defied him. It was not a thing that happened often.

Loki, all too curious now, had left his quarters to see what all the fuss was about. Was there war brewing? Some sort of civil unrest? Something to which he could sink his teeth into and have some fun with?

As it turned out, it was nothing so interesting. Midgard, the planet Earth, was about to befall some sort of catastrophe, and Thor, lovesick, smitten Thor, could not leave his lady love there to perish with all the other small-minded creatures. Loki actually felt a bit of relief at hearing the news. It made his failure to reign over Midgard sting ever so less. He thought perhaps the Universe had actually spared him from the disappointment of ruling a soon-to-be dead planet. He smiled.

They convened in one of the many great halls, and much to Loki's surprise, the woman Jane was not the only one Thor brought back. There was another girl, another Midgardian. She was young, with long brown locks and fair skin. She looked bewildered, wide-eyed and scared. Loki was intrigued.

_This is different_, he thought. Loki liked different.

He watched her as she was told her planet's fate. Watched her as the anger blossomed on her face, as the tears spilled and the catatonia crept in. She'd rounded on him, unafraid, even knowing who he was. It was…refreshing.

He told himself that he was bored, that night after night he visited her because he was bored and she was something new and different and she filled the spaces of his waking hours. He asked her questions about how she felt, what she thought. Sometimes she stared blankly out at the city. Other times she turned to him with fire in her eyes. He could see a wildness in her, could feel her anger and her sadness. He wanted to run his fingers along those emotions and play them like a finely tuned instrument, plucking his fingers along the strings of her heart, making her quiver and sing for him.

When she sat because he'd told her to, it thrilled him. When she stilled at his command, it thrilled him. When he'd seen her for the first time in the finest silks of Asgard, it thrilled him.

And so it was that he had found himself in her bedchamber that night, stretched along her body, claiming it as his own. For, unbeknownst to Odin, Loki still had his magik. Not the full destructive power of it, but enough to change his shape, enough to calm the mind of a young girl and mold her dreams to those of his making. He whispered to her, spoke of his intentions, made promises in the dark. And if he liked it when she moved beneath him he told himself it was boredom, it was from the lack of a woman's touch in more moons than he could remember, and not because of any fondness for the girl called Darcy, not at all because he felt any kinship with this lost girl who no longer had a home and no one to love her.

That's what he told himself, anyway, when he sought her out night after night.

Tonight she was not in her room which surprised Loki. She was always in her room, always sitting out on the balcony watching the city sleep. But not tonight. His first thought was of Jane. They were best friends. It would make sense if she had sought solace in her company. But she was not there. Loki found Thor and Jane deep in conversation, likely about what had happened to Midgard. His next thought was of his mother, Frigga. She'd taken both girls under her wing and so it would not be a stretch of the imagination to picture her with Darcy, perhaps weaving or telling tales. He checked his mother's quarters, the weaving room, and gardens to no avail. Loki's pace quickened. He was growing agitated. Images of Fandral in the great hall smiling down at Darcy came unbidden and try as he might he could not push them back.

He searched the kitchen, the servants' quarters, the library, and the stalls, all without success. He decided to head back to his room to concoct a locator spell to find her. As he walked the long hall he could hear the steady tattoo of the drums calling the warriors home. It was tradition, as the sun set, for the men and women of Asgard to beat upon a goatskin drum so that the protectors of the realm may find their way home. It was a soft and steady solemn beat with an occasional voice rung out in song for good measure. It was in listening that Loki found what he was looking for.

He heard grunting from the sparring room, which at this hour should have stood empty. It was a room used for practice, long, wide and open to the outside, with great columns lining it. It held all manner of weapon from bows to swords to axes and in one corner were large squares of cloth filled with hay and unspun wool for wrestling and other weaponless fighting. The walls were lined with spears and knives, and fighting staffs for the young not yet allowed to practice with blades.

This was the weapon Darcy Lewis was using, and quite well he noted. She was currently beating the stuffing out of a practice dummy, literally. He leaned his long, lithe body against one of the columns and watched her quietly, shrouding himself so that she would not see him.

She was dressed in a simple black tunic and black pants. Her feet were bare and her hair long and flowing. Sweat gleamed on her skin in the dying light of the sun and Loki wondered how it would taste upon his tongue. He pushed the thought away just as soon as it presented itself.

She beat the dummy mercilessly, rendering great, thundering cracks upon its head and shoulders.

"I hate you!" she screamed at the thing, but the leather and wood contraption gave no reply which seemed to make her angrier.

"Go to hell!" she said as she dropped the staff. She spit on the silent figure and then kicked it mightily which was a mistake.

"Ow!" She dropped to the floor while clutching her foot. She glared at the dummy. "You're lucky I don't have my taser," she whispered.

"Is that the weapon you used to take down Thor?" asked Loki as he came out of the shadows.

Darcy looked up, one eyebrow quirked.

"You're like a bad penny," she said to Loki.

"I do not understand the reference," he said, kneeling down before her on the balls of his feet.

"You keep turning up," she replied.

Loki smiled.

"Not without some effort this evening." He reached for her foot and she pulled away.

"Stop that," he reprimanded. "Give me your foot." He motioned with his hand for emphasis.

She sighed and sat back, giving in to him.

The third toe in was nearly broken. He could feel the blood throbbing and the muscle swelling and knew there'd be a bruise, that she might even have difficulty walking for a few days. He looked at her, wondering if he could trust her or if he should let her suffer.

"Just do whatever you're going to do," she said to him. She lay down and stared up at the ceiling, her arms at her side.

"What can I do without my magik?" he asked as innocently as possible.

"Please," she said, laughing. "You don't fool me. I don't believe for one second that you don't have your magik."

This angered Loki. He grabbed her injured toe with his fingers and squeezed.

"Ow! What the fuck?" she said as she pulled away from him, dragging herself backwards along the floor.

"You are an insolent little thing, aren't you?" he sneered. "You'd do well to learn some respect." He stood, towering over her. "Perhaps some time in the stockades?" he mused, cocking his head to the side. "Or training with the attendants? I assure you, they can be quite cruel at times. Or perhaps, I should just cut you where you lie, feed you to the wolves, and be done with you."

Darcy, still leaning back on her elbows, asked him "What happened to you?"

The question took Loki off guard and he stood for a moment, speechless, staring at her. Instead of slapping her, which a part of him wanted to do, he held out his hand to her.

"I can get up on my own, thank you very much," she said, dismissing him. She began to sit up but was interrupted by his quiet plea.

"Please," he said, extending his hand again. His voice was soft, almost kind.

Darcy looked at him trying to discern whether or not this was some trick of his. Her gut told her it wasn't so she took his hand, taking a deep breath before placing her slender fingers in his long ones. He was cool to the touch, his skin smooth, and it triggered a memory within her, or rather the feeling of a memory though she could not place it. She knew only that the memory seemed to slide through her body, touching places she'd been trying to shut off.

Loki kept hold of her hand even once she was stood.

Darcy looked up and into his eyes. His face was cast in golden shadows and his green eyes searched hers.

"Has my mother told you of Asgardian prisons yet?" he asked her.

Darcy shook her head no.

"Then I shall tell you," he said.

He escorted Darcy back to her room, her hand held firmly in his, _to help her balance_, he told himself, so that he would not have to pick her up if she fell.

After she was settled into her chair, wrapped in her favorite gold throw, Loki told her of his time imprisoned. He told her how Odin had bound Loki with his own entrails so that whenever he pulled or strained it merely caused him more pain, unimaginable pain; he told her how he had been given venom to drink instead of water, and how the poison coursed through his system, making him convulse and pull on his binds; He told her of the time they'd spread open his ribs and Odin had said "Now look, we make the ravens glad." while Thor looked on and Frigga fretted. He told her how it was Frigga who had freed him ultimately, by threatening to leave The King.

He told this human, this mortal, of things he'd spoken to no one about. She listened, silently, and when he was done, she stood, letting the golden throw fall to the concrete beneath her feet. She hobbled over to him and took his hand in hers. Without a word, she led him to her bed. She lay down and when he stood there, confused, she motioned for him to join her.

Loki lay down on top of the covers; stiff, unsure of what was happening. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows from the hearth fire dancing there.

Darcy was snuggled underneath the lush covers, turned on her side to face Loki.

"You deserved every second of that torture," she whispered. She paused for a moment, and then she kissed Loki on the cheek.

That night Darcy slept. She dreamed of gallows and racks and iron maidens and other medieval devices.

Loki did not sleep. But he did dream. He dreamed of the girl lying next to him. In his dream she was spit and fire and other dark things. In his dream he loved her as dark things should be loved, in secret, in the shadows. He did not know why, but he knew it was so and it vexed him.

Loki Laufeyson, Loki Odinson, Loki Friggason, was falling in love and he hated every second of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read, favorited, alerted, reviewed this story. I really appreciate it and I apologize for being slow in review replies. A heads up on this chapter: Darcy gets her period this chapter and I did not shy away from describing it. So if blood makes you queasy then this might be difficult for you. I promise it all has a purpose though.**

**Chapter beta'd by LaTessitrice. Thank you! And thank you, readers, for taking the time to check out my little story. Reviews are love and we all need love. No copyright infringement intended. I own squat. The word prompt for this chapter was the word 'gold'.**

A bright, golden dawn seeped through the windows as Darcy Lewis slept. It woke her slowly, a gentle prodding rather than the startling jolt of a nightmare, which given her dreams that night would not have been a surprising way to wake. She found, as she reached out her arm, that her bed was empty, and then opened her eyes to confirm. A mix of emotions washed over her: disappointment that Loki was gone, and relief that he was, and a little bit of embarrassment too. She groaned when she recalled kissing Loki on the cheek. By all rights she should have hated him but there was something about him in that moment. It wasn't pity that she felt but rather a strange sort of kinship. He didn't seem to fit into this world and neither did she.

She sat up and ruffled the bed sheets, lifting them to look underneath as though she might find him buried there in their volume and heft. _Stranger things_…"Especially in this place," she said aloud.

Darcy rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got up. The smooth floor was cold under her feet and she swore. She realized though, upon standing, that her toe no longer hurt. She looked down and sure enough there was no swelling or bruising.

"Huh," she said, "no magik my ass."

Still woozy from sleeping she stumbled towards the washing chamber adjacent to her sleeping quarters. The Asgardians had managed a type of water pressure system using pipes feeding into and from nearby rivers and lakes. Her 'shower' functioned much like well-water from a pump system. It was slightly clumsy but it did the job and it was better than what she'd expected which was no shower at all.

As Darcy walked she felt something odd and came to a sudden and horrifying realization.

"Oh, no," she said.

She gathered up the hem of her bedclothes and lifted them up so she could look at her legs.

"Oh, hell no!" she said.

The insides of her thighs were streaked red and growing slicker by the second.

She hobbled as quickly as she could to the washing chamber, pulling her bedclothes over her head as she went and tossing them aside. She quickly entered the bathing area, letting the cool water flow over her.

"Oh, fuck," she said, as the first wave of pain rolled through her abdomen.

Rivers of red were now flowing freely, mingling with the water at her feet. She clasped a hand to her lower belly and moaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, ow," she said.

"Are you alright?" she heard a voice from the doorway ask. She turned to see Loki standing there, staring at her.

"Jesus Christ, Loki, privacy!" she screamed as she grabbed a nearby linen to cover herself with.

"It…sounded like you were hurt. I was concerned," he said by way of explanation.

"I'm fine," she said, as she involuntarily looked down at the mess between her feet. Loki followed her gaze.

"You're cycling," he said as he took a step closer.

"Get out," she said. She would have pointed at the door for emphasis but she was afraid of dropping the linen covering her.

"It upsets you?" he asked. "Why?"

Darcy sighed.

"Because it _hurts_," she said. "And it's gross. And it smells. And I don't know what I'm going to do on this crummy planet because I doubt you have tampons."

"But it means you are able to bear children," he said, as he took another step closer. "This is a blessing, not something to be reviled.

"Well, I'll tell you what," she replied, "when you can have a period you can tell me how blessed you feel."

"There is great power in what you are experiencing. A power men like me could never hope to harness," he said. His gaze rested on her stomach.

She felt another wave of pain and again clasped her belly with her hand.

"Here," Loki reached out his hand towards her.

Darcy backed up against the wall, water flowing down over her shoulders and soaking the cloth she held over herself.

"Back off, Mr. Grabby Hands," she said.

"I can help," said Loki.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she mumbled.

Loki smirked but then a cloud seemed to pass over his face.

"No. Only you." He said his voice barely audible.

"What are you going to do?" she asked. She bit her lip, chewing on it as she waited for his answer.

"I'm going to take the pain away," he said.

Darcy nodded, curious.

Loki reached his hand under the linen Darcy was holding tightly to her body. Her skin was slick and cool from the water and he could feel the minute tremors from her cramps, could feel her body pulsing with life. He looked into her eyes and Darcy suddenly felt very small and very vulnerable.

He rested his hand on her lower abdomen, its length spanning nearly from hip bone to hip bone. He closed his eyes and began muttering words Darcy could not understand. His hand grew warm and that warmth spread out, sending a tingling sensation through her. She relaxed her death grip on the material covering her and leaned back.

As the heat grew and spread she felt her pain dissipate. For a brief moment she felt something else, something other than the fading pain and the heat from Loki's hand. She felt a faint burst of need, the kind you feel when you kiss someone and your body suddenly wants far more than a kiss, but it passed just as quickly as it came and before Darcy knew it Loki was removing his hand.

"There," he said. "Better?"

The words were spoken politely enough but his tone was clipped, short. He did not seem able to even look at her.

She nodded yes and then realized he probably couldn't see since he was staring at his hands. He wrung them back and forth as though they pained him.

"Y…yes," she said. "Thank you."

He nodded and began walking away without another word.

"How long?" she called out after him. "How long will it last?"

He turned partway to her when he reached the door but still refused to look at her.

"Until you've completed this cycle." He turned and left the room and as his footsteps receded Darcy heard him call out, "I'll send an attendant to help you."

Darcy didn't know what to make of what'd just happened. She was thankful that the pain was gone but confused by Loki's behavior. He was a bizarre mix of kindness and annoyance and it was making her head spin.

Before she had any further chance to think on it she heard a knock at the door. When she looked up she saw her attendant, Aetta, peeking around the corner. "May I come in?" asked the older woman. Her long graying hair was pulled back in a double bun and she wore the simple garments of a servant but Darcy had the strangest feeling that if she were called to battle she'd fare just as well as any man. Her body, though short in stature, was strong and muscled and her demeanor one of no nonsense; pleasant enough but always to the point.

"Yes," Darcy nodded and waved for her to enter. "I'm having a bit of a problem," said Darcy. She patted her lower belly and continued, "seems Aunt Flo is visiting and I don't know what to do about it."

Aetta ignored Darcy's Midgardian colloquialism.

"So I've been told," she said. She laid out some clothing on the dressing table. "I'll fetch you some tea," said the older woman as she left the room. "Put those on while I'm gone."

Darcy inspected the clothes, water dripping onto the floor as she did so.

"Great," she said as she held up the underwear. "Granny panties. Just what I always wanted."

Inside they were lined with removable padding that Darcy assumed was meant to absorb her menses. There was a small pile of replacements on the dressing table as well.

She dressed, donning the bulky undergarments, and opted to wear pants over them for fear that they may fall right off her were she in a gown. Though her pain was gone she still felt like she suddenly weighed twenty more pounds. She turned this way and that in front of her mirror and sighed.

_Maybe I should just stay in bed_, thought Darcy.

As if on cue her attendant entered with the tea.

"The Queen would like an audience with you today in the Weaving Room," she said as she placed the tray of tea and bread down on the little table in Darcy's room. "As soon as you're done with your breakfast."

She looked up at Darcy, then very noticeably at Darcy's pants. She tsk'ed and then left the room.

_So much for going back to bed_, thought Darcy.

She walked over to the tray of food and tea and sat down. She lifted the warm cup to her nose and breathed in. The tea smelled minty and faintly of earth. She took a tentative sip and wondered if it was meant to ease her menstrual pain. In the days following her arrival on Asgard the attendants had brought her a tea to calm her nerves but she never bothered to drink it. She had wanted to feel her pain. Now she just felt guilty because Loki had taken away her pain. She didn't really need this tea but she drank it anyway, not wanting to raise any suspicion.

The bread and jam was her usual fare though this morning she half felt like retching it up the moment she swallowed. Her body always seemed to be of two minds when she had her period: it waffled between wanting to eat everything in sight and wanting to vomit at the sight of food. Today was no different but she forced herself to eat at least a little.

As she ate she wondered what Frigga wanted to see her about; was there news about what had happened to Earth? She made a mental note to visit Jane and force her out of the cocoon of her room and Thor's arms. Not that she blamed Jane. Anything was better than thinking about what'd happened, than thinking about the fact that they were now two ships lost at sea, directionless, hopeless, and stranded. Darcy had never had any great designs for her life and that had never really bothered her but now that the rug had been pulled out from under her she felt scared, adrift. It was easy, before, to imagine that someday maybe she'd get married or go to grad school or just stay happily working with Jane for Stark Industries. It had been a nice, comfortable life, and even though the world had been turned on its head because of the Chitauri attack Darcy hadn't let it faze her. But this fazed her. What was she supposed to do? What could she do? Darcy felt the first prickling of tears sting her eyes and threw down her half-eaten piece of bread onto her plate.

"That's enough of that," she said to no one in particular. She got up, took one last look at herself in her mirror, and then went to find Frigga.

Frigga stood in the large weaving room overlooking the gardens. It had been her doing to have the large bay windows overlooking her prized flowers and shrubs. _So that beauty may gaze upon beauty_, she'd told Odin; her beloved Odin who was so very troubled by the recent events. They'd each been trying, in their own ways, to discover what had led to Earth's destruction. Odin was locked away in the War Chamber with only the highest regarded of counsel. The human, Jane, was with Thor. Sometimes they discussed, sometimes they did other things. Frigga did not fault her or her son for this. It was normal to seek reassurance of life in the face of death.

Herself, she'd been spending more time in the Scrying Room trying to discern fate from the inky pool therein. Most of what she saw was mere nonsensical shadows. All but one thing which was why she found herself here, today, waiting for the one called Darcy.

"Ahem," she heard from behind her, and then heard a faint knocking.

Frigga turned to see Darcy standing there. The girl looked better, if not a little pale. Her eyes were no longer sunken and red and she looked to be putting a little meat on her bones.

"Come," said Frigga while holding out her hand.

Darcy approached and laid her hand in Frigga's. Frigga lightly kissed her on the cheek.

"It's good to see you," she said. She sat down on a bench facing the windows and pulled Darcy down with her. "Is Asgard treating you well?" asked Frigga. She patted the top of Darcy's hand with her free hand.

Darcy nodded yes. "Y…yes," she said, nervous in the presence of the Queen. She'd never met royalty before and wasn't sure how to act.

"Am I in trouble?" she blurted out.

"Goodness, no!" Frigga laughed. "Why ever would you think that?"

Darcy looked down at her feet, her long hair cascading around her face. "I don't know. Because you're the queen and I'm a nobody and you wanted to see me."

"Darcy, dear," said Frigga as she brushed back a lock of Darcy's hair behind her ear, "You are most certainly not a nobody."

Darcy looked at her tentatively.

"Tell me," Frigga continued, "What did you do on Earth?"

Darcy bit her lip. "Um, helped Jane mostly." She said. "I was a student when Thor first came to New Mexico. Then, after I graduated, I just stayed working with Jane."

"But what did you do, exactly?" asked Frigga.

"Research," said Darcy as she looked around the room. The day had become overcast but the huge windows let in plenty of light to see by. There were several looms of various sizes set about the room. Some were empty, others had partially completed work on them, and one, against the far wall looked to be just about complete. It was this one that drew Darcy's attention.

"What do you see?" asked Frigga as she followed Darcy's gaze.

Darcy stood and approached the tapestry. It was one of the larger ones. The threading was mostly shades of gold with bits of red and black and silver and a touch of green. Some loose threads dangled haphazardly from it. Darcy cocked her head and the image seemed to shift. She took a step to the left and it changed again. To the right, and the same.

"I don't know," said Darcy. "It keeps changing."

She felt Frigga's hands rest gently on her shoulders. "You're a very talented young lady." She said. "Do you know that?"

"Here," said Frigga. "Close your eyes."

Darcy did as the older woman asked and felt her move around to her front.

"Take a few deep breaths; try to clear your mind, and when you open your eyes focus on the first thing you see."

Darcy nodded and then she felt Frigga step away.

She did as she'd been instructed, breathing in deeply like she'd been taught in yoga class, and tried to clear her mind of all thought. It wasn't easy, because really she had a million thoughts bouncing around her head but every time one vied for attention she just pictured herself holding a baseball bat and knocking it away. Eventually the steady stream of internal noise died down and Darcy opened her eyes.

"Water," she said. "I see water."

Darcy took a step back. The image frightened her. It was like a great dark wave, encompassing the whole of the tapestry and it reminded her too much of that night in Paris, her last night on Earth, when everything had gone dark.

"Everything's drowning," said Darcy, "Disappearing."

"It's alright," said Frigga as she wrapped her arm around Darcy's shoulder. "Come, sit." She said.

Darcy was shaking.

"I don't feel well," she said. "I think I should go back to my room."

"Of course," said Frigga. "I'll walk you back."

As they walked Darcy found herself looking for Loki. For all of his annoying habits he'd become a bit of a port in the storm for her and she found herself needing to be with him right now.

"He favors you, you know," said Frigga as they walked.

Darcy stared at her, jaw agape.

"Can you read minds?" asked Darcy. She pointed at her temple for emphasis.

"No," Frigga laughed. "I just know my son. He spends a great many hours troubled by you."

"He's just bored," said Darcy, brushing it off. "I'm a box he wants to unlock. That's all." She shrugged.

"As you say," replied Frigga.

She left Darcy at the door of her chamber after having wished her well and asking to see her again the next day. The girl had agreed and they'd parted ways.

As Frigga walked away she thought of what the girl had seen in her tapestry. It was a special piece, shown only to a select few. It was, as many things in life are, malleable, and the image changed often though only a certain few could see that. To most it was a bunch of gold thread, a pretty picture reminiscent of their home or a jumble of nothing particular at all, depending on the viewer. To Frigga, and women like her, it was a window, a particularly potent one for those with the gift of sight, which Darcy seemed to be.

_Darcy_, she thought. _Will she be a salve to my son's wounds or will she break what's left of him?_

Frigga headed for the Scrying Room. She had many questions that needed answering, not least of which was the meaning behind Darcy's vision.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello! My apologies for taking awhile to update. Hopefully this chapter will be worth the wait. You may or may not have noticed that I have now bumped the rating up to M. While there is no explicit content in this chapter I have decided that we've marched into enough mature territory to warrant the rating as it will only continue from here.**

**Special thank you to my beta latessitrice for her feedback and speedy reply. As always, I hope you guys are reading her stories. **

**I also want to say a special thank you to an anon reviewer who signed her name as LanternLady but since she was technically anon I could not reply to her. LL your review really touched my heart. If I can inspire emotion in my readers that is the highest compliment. I hope you are doing better since you left that review and I encourage you (and all of my readers) to reach out to me any time you need to. I'm always here to listen or for virtual hugs.**

**As always, no copyright infringement intended. Any remaining errors are my own, not my beta's. Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story and left reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

The next few days found Loki to be conspicuously absent and though life on Asgard kept Darcy Lewis busy, she found herself often seeking him out. He was her first thought upon waking and her last thought before her eyes closed at night. She looked in the shadows of the halls for him, listened for whispers of his name, wondered at every slinking critter she saw after having learned of his shape-shifting abilities. It was all to no avail though and she dared not ask for fear of ridicule. Instead she bore the time visiting Jane, studying with Frigga, and learning the lay of the land.

"It's not so bad," said Jane in an effort to placate Darcy. She was referring to life on Asgard, though Darcy had to bite her tongue because she was sure the only bit of it Jane had seen had involved a very naked Norse God.

Darcy was picking a piece of lint off her skirt while they sat on Jane's bed. Her period, to her pleasant surprise, was not only painless but short lived so today she was daring to wear something a bit more feminine. The silks rustled whenever she shifted and it made her think of the awful taffeta dress she'd had to wear to her uncle's wedding when she was young. The clothes on Asgard were much better than that gaudy, purple monstrosity with bubble sleeves. This dress, pale rose in color, almost made her feel like a princess and if she tried real hard she could pretend this was all just some sort of messed up fairy tale with a guaranteed happy ending. Without realizing it, Darcy smiled to herself at the thought.

"What?" asked Jane, as she mirrored Darcy's smile.

Darcy looked up. The smile seemed wrong on Jane. Her eyes were haloed by dark circles the color of faint bruises and there was no light in them. Just like that Darcy's fantasy was shattered and replaced instead with the bitter reality that there would be no happy ending.

Darcy's face fell. "Nothing. I was just daydreaming. It was stupid," she said. She looked away from Jane's inquisitive eyes and pretended to scan the room.

"This is nice, huh?" she said, about the room. "Is this Thor's room?" It was massive. Much larger than Darcy's room, and she realized that she was feeling a momentary flash of jealousy over the fact that Jane got to share a room with her lover. Darcy didn't even know where Loki was never mind what his room looked like.

"It is," said Jane, blushing. "I'm not sure what his parents think but he insisted."

"Lucky you," said Darcy with no small amount of sarcasm.

"Darce, what's wrong?" Jane reached out a hand to her friend and laid it briefly on her arm.

Darcy laughed bitterly. "What's wrong?" she asked, incredulously, her voice rising in tenor. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Darcy rose from the bed and began pacing. "What's wrong?" she said again as she paced back and forth, her hands gesticulating as she moved. "I'll tell you what's wrong," she said as she looked pointedly at Jane. "We're on a fucking alien planet is what's wrong. Except instead of little green men it's full of ancient Norse gods who, I might add, are probably the reason we're in this mess. Probably," she continued, "one of them fucked with the wrong god or monster or whatever and they decided to _smite _us out of revenge."

"Fuck this planet here" said Darcy with a large sweep of her arm, "no one cares about Earth or Midgard or whatever the fuck it's called anyway."

Darcy turned and pointed right at Jane.

"And you," she said. "You just sit in here playing house with He-Man pretending nothing's wrong while…while…"

She couldn't finish the rest because everything else she could think of ended with Loki and she realized she was being petty and ridiculous and taking her frustration out in the wrong place. She wasn't mad at Jane. She was mad at Loki for disappearing, for abandoning her and she felt like an idiot.

"Oh my God," she said as she slapped her hands over her face. "I'm so sorry," she said between her splayed fingers.

She dropped her hands and looked at Jane. "I'm so sorry," she said again, her head tilting to the side. She knelt down next to Jane and took Jane's hands in her own. "I'm not mad at you. I swear. Can I blame my period?" asked Darcy.

Jane smiled weakly and petted Darcy's head. "You poor thing" she said, "You don't have any chocolate or coffee or anything. Do I even want to know…" Jane began to ask her but Darcy cut her off.

"No, you don't. But you'll find out eventually anyway. I hope you like granny panties."

"Jesus," said Jane as she rolled her eyes.

Darcy got up and sat on the bed next to Jane. "Have you heard anything?" she asked Jane tentatively, her voice quiet and meek.

"No." Jane shook her head. "I don't know if it's some sort of misogyny thing or what but he doesn't tell me anything. All I know is they've been having their little powwows or whatever Vikings call it and then he comes back here and…"

"Yeah," said Darcy, holding up her hand and cutting Jane off. "I get it. He comes back here and you play x-rated Tarzan and Jane. I don't need the deets on that."

Jane laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh and Darcy laughed with her.

"You lucky girl," said Darcy, almost to herself.

"Darcy, please. You know you're a knock-out. What about that blonde guy? He seems to have a thing for you."

"Who, Fandral?" Darcy rolled her eyes. "I think he'd stick it in a tree if he could."

"Ewww," said Jane and they laughed some more.

Darcy folded her legs up on the bed and made herself more comfortable.

"So, seriously," said Jane, "what have you been up to?"

Darcy smoothed her skirt out around her legs. "Frigga's been teaching me hoodoo or whatever it is they do here," Darcy snorted, her shoulders shrugging. "It's silly. She seems to think I have some sort of gift. I mean, c'mon, right?" she said as she looked at Jane. "If I had some sort of second sight wouldn't I have used it to win the lottery?" She expected Jane to laugh but instead Jane was looking at her curiously.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Darcy started rubbing at her cheeks and forehead in an effort to remove whatever might be making Jane stare at her like that.

"No," said Jane, her tone serious. She took hold of Darcy's arm to stop her from fidgeting. "Maybe…maybe this is what we were meant for." She said.

Darcy bristled.

"No, hear me out. I mean, I can do more here, learn more here, than I ever could have back home. And you, maybe you do have a gift. Something you never would have tapped into back on Earth."

Jane looked down at her lap. "We have to think that way, right?" she said as she looked back up at Darcy. "We have to hang on to something or we'll go crazy."

_Easy for you to say_, thought Darcy. _You have your science and Thor and you look like you fucking belong here. What do I have? A parlor trick? Something for Asgardian birthday parties? I thought, maybe, that I had…_

"I should go," said Darcy. She stood and smoothed out her skirt.

"Darce, I'm sorry," said Jane.

"It's fine. I'm fine. I just need to stretch my legs." She smiled weakly down at Jane and then leant over to give her a hug. "I love you," she whispered to Jane, feeling suddenly very sentimental.

"Love you too," whispered Jane.

Loki stood high on a cliff's edge staring out at the Great Plain. The sun was setting and it cast a golden hue over the expansive green fields. In the distance smoke rose from hearth fires and if he listened very carefully he could hear the evening drums.

He was, of course, not supposed to be here, confined to the palace as he was, but with what had happened to Midgard and the ensuing desperate rush to find the culprit he suspected his absence would not be noted. Not by any of his kin anyway_. Stop_, he thought. His mind, his carefully crafted intellect and discipline had been failing him of late and it was all due to that _human_. At first it was just a game. He was bored and she was a toy to chase, a child to rile. But then…then she'd listened to him. And she did something that few people had ever done in his lifetime: she'd told him the truth. When he'd told her of his punishment she hadn't placated him. She did not douse him with kind words nor offer false hope. She had been blunt, to the point, and still, for whatever unfathomable reason, had welcomed him to her bed. He hadn't slept a wink that night and he could feel the burn of her kiss on his cheek well into the morning.

He'd left before she'd risen but like the tide pulled by a moon he never wandered far from her. And so, when she'd cried out he'd heard her and without thinking had rushed back to her quarters. He found her in the antechamber used for washing and only barely registered the fact that she stood there naked, focused instead on what might be causing her pain. When he saw what was distressing her he felt a momentary rush of awe and a pang for something he had never before desired. And when he'd laid his hand on her to take away her pain something else had flared there in its place. A brief and momentary glimpse of how things could be were he to take her and make her his. The images had come unbidden to his mind: Darcy laid out beneath him, her face flushed, her breath ragged, his name on her lips.

He pulled his hand away. It smarted and he wrung it against the other, trying to ease the discomfort. He could not bring himself to look her in the eyes, afraid of what he might say or do if he did.

As he walked down the hall he wiped his damp hand on his pants over and over again. Anger was bubbling up within him. He passed Darcy's attendant and snapped at her.

"Your _human_," he said disdainfully, "is bleeding." He motioned to his groin. "I suggest you go attend to her before she sullies our realm any further." The look of disgust on his face was enough to send her scuttling away from him without so much as a word.

Loki stormed off to his quarters growing more and more agitated as he went.

_Stupid girl, mortal, I've no need, one does not lie with an ant…_

These were all things he muttered under his breath as he went and by the time he reached his room his blood was near boiling. He knocked books off the shelves, used his magik to make the fire in the hearth roar to life and then die down, slammed the doors to his terrace open and shut and open again. He stood there, looking out over the city and realized what he needed to do. He needed to get away. Away from her, away from confinement, away from his meddling _family_. He couldn't think clearly here among them.

And so it was he now stood and watched the city in the distance and breathed in the cool, fresh air and relished the quiet and solitude. He'd spent the last few days traveling the hills and forests, living sometimes as an animal and other times as a man. He practiced his magik freely, conjuring things at will, flexing his muscles as it were. And he thought. He thought long and hard about Darcy Lewis.

He'd made a decision and now it was time to return.

Darcy knew the moment he was back. Not because she heard the horses outside stomp and fret. Not because a flurry of guards strode past her towards the stables. Not even because she heard his voice placating the guards. She'd known by the shift in the air, by the way her heart had suddenly beaten faster. Maybe it was the work she'd been doing with Frigga but it was like Darcy was somehow tethered to Loki and his return had plucked a string within her alerting her to his presence.

She stood in the hall above the stables near to the entranceway he'd surely come through. She paced and fidgeted taking turns sitting on the window sill and then standing as she tried to look as nonchalant as possible. She heard footfalls on the stairs and sat down again, pretending to look out at the night sky but she couldn't help herself. As soon as she heard steps in the hall she turned to see.

Loki was there, looking a little worse for wear. His clothes were dirty, his hair tousled, but the worst was his face. He wore a look of complete indifference. His eyes fell to her for but a brief moment but in that moment it felt as though he looked right through her, like she was nothing.

Darcy's heart sank.

He said nothing, made no move to her. Indeed, did not acknowledge her at all. He passed by soundlessly and Darcy stared after him.

She continued to sit; afraid her legs would not carry her if she dared move. It was only when Jane came to fetch her for dinner that she got up. As best she could she smiled and picked at her food. She nodded at what she hoped was the right time to nod when spoken to and folded her napkin neatly on her lap as was expected. Frigga eyed her knowingly and seemed to try to convey sympathy as best she could without words. Darcy simply downed her wine in one big gulp much to Thor's pleased amusement.

The people at the table made small talk but Darcy barely heard a word of it. Inside the last pieces of her were dying. Without realizing it she'd made her allegiance, rested her hope on a man with the heart of a monster and was feeling more foolish by the second. She drained another cup of wine and Jane eyed her warily.

As Darcy sat there silently mulling over her own stupidity she grew more and more agitated and finally, fueled by the potent wine, she decided to confront the God of Mischief. She wasn't even sure if she cared if he struck her down for it. If he was going to be her downfall she was at least going to give him a piece of her mind beforehand.

As deftly as she could, which was not very deftly at all, she excused herself from the table and stormed off in search of his bedchamber. Several rooms, one pissed off chamber maid, and a few raised eyebrows later Darcy found herself in front of her own room, winded, and her search for Loki unsuccessful.

"Damn it," she muttered as she leaned against her door. All of the longing she had felt for him had melted into bitter annoyance and she was sure if she laid eyes on him at this exact moment she would clock him without a second thought.

With the awkward gait of one intoxicated she pushed open her door using her shoulder and then slammed it shut behind her. She didn't even care to get undressed. The wine had spread unnatural warmth through her veins that made her sluggish and tired and she found that now that her bed was before her she wanted nothing more than to fall into it and forget everything.

She pulled back the sheets and just before collapsing into bed she looked down and noticed something black and shiny. She pulled the sheets back further to reveal a long black snake coiled there.

"Very funny," she said. Frigga had told Darcy of Loki's penchant for snakes, how he liked to conjure them up and frighten people with them or even on occasion take the shape of one himself.

"You know what?" said Darcy. "I don't even care. I'm tired. I'm going to bed. So you can just slither yourself away before I squish you." Darcy began to lie down and the snake uncoiled.

Before she could finish lying down she felt strong arms haul her away from the bed and toss her aside. A loud voice yell "No!"

She looked up and saw Loki standing next to the bed. A green light shot out of his hand and struck the snake, obliterating it. Loki snarled and turned to her. He was in fresh clothes and cleaned up since she'd last seen him. He stalked over to her and grabbed her by her arms.

"Must you be such an imbecile?" he said. His voice rang through her bones, shaking her. "You would have died!" There was no warmth, no sign of caring despite his words. Anger seemed to be leeching out from his very pores. His nostrils flared, his eyes were tight, guarded, and his grip on her strong enough to bruise.

Darcy's anger from earlier bubbled to the surface.

"What do you care?!" she spat.

"I don't," he said, his eyes ice, his voice cold.

But suddenly his lips were on her, hot and desperate and belying his words and earlier indifference.

"I don't," he said again between breaths but then his lips were on hers again, his tongue pushed deep within her mouth. His hands moved to her face, their grip still tight, claiming her.

"I don't", he said. But even he did not believe the lie.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello! This chapter is short but my beta and I both felt it worked as a solo scene. Also I would like to note that I did add some stuff after sending this to my beta so any errors remaining are my own. Hopefully she'll tell me if I've messed up and chide me appropriately for not sending my additions to her first. And obviously, or not, this chapter was beta'd by latessitrice because she's awesome like that. As always, no copyright infringement intended.**

**A guest reviewer had asked me why I spell the word magik with a "k". It is entirely a peculiar preference of my own to differentiate between real magik and stage magic. Something entirely from my personal life that has bled into my writing. I grew up in two different worlds of magic. One world was the one of stage magic. I spent many years studying stage magic and working as an assistant. And on a much more personal note, I also practice real magik. Obviously it's not like what Loki can do or like what you see on television but it is a part of my spiritual practices. It's not uncommon for people of my ilk to spell the two differently so as to note the difference. Hopefully I haven't freaked you out by admitting that.**

**Thank you so much for reading and for all the reviews. I love hearing your thoughts and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Loki stilled and his gaze drifted to Darcy's bed. His eyes narrowed and Darcy could tell by the way he stiffened and straightened his posture that the kissing was over, much to her disappointment.

"You cannot stay here," he said, his hands moving from Darcy's face to grip her arms. His fingers sank into her soft skin and she had to bite back a whimper.

"Why?" she asked as she followed his stare. The bed was smattered with pieces of the large black snake, little drops of blood and bits of pink flesh dotting the sheets. "I'm not afraid of snakes and I'm sure we can get that cleaned up."

"Of _course_ you aren't," he said with no small amount of sarcasm. Loki rolled his eyes and moved away from her towards the bed. He circled it, his eyes scanning the room as he went, searching for something but Darcy couldn't comprehend what. He knelt over the bed and sniffed the air. Then he used a candle snuffer on the side table to turn the snake's body over.

"Seriously. I'm fine," she protested. "I lived in New Mexico. Land of scorpions , rattlesnakes, and spiders. No biggie." Darcy shrugged.

Loki sighed and stood straight again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as though he found their conversation to be very taxing.

"This was no ordinary snake, Darcy Lewis." His stern gaze bore into her. "This one," he said, looking back at the bed, at the remains lying there, "was designed to kill you. And only you. It would have struck no other." _And_, he thought, _it was meant to lay blame on me_. The snake had all of his markings, magikal and otherwise. It was a favorite breed that he'd conjured often enough in the palace though with far less deadly intent. It even smelled like him. It might as well have had his signature scrawled across it in his fine script.

He maneuvered back to Darcy, standing only inches from her.

Darcy looked down at the bed and instinctively took a step backwards away from it.

"K…kill me?" she said. Why would anyone want to do that?" She said the last part so quietly that Loki almost didn't hear her. All the wooziness from the alcohol earlier seemed to drain instantaneously along with the color in her cheeks.

"You will stay with me tonight," he said. He stood by her side, watching her, as though if he looked hard enough he'd be able to divine the answers he sought merely from her presence.

"Okay," she said. Her voice sounded hollow and her eyes were fixed on her would be assassin.

"Come," said Loki. He wrapped one slim hand around the back of her neck and guided her out of her quarters. The door clicked softly behind them and the dim halls cast long shadows on the walls.

Darcy's gaze wandered all corners of the corridor as they walked. She was full of nervous energy and practically bouncing on her heels as they went. She jumped when she heard laughter from down the hall.

Loki rounded on her and placed his hands upon her shoulders.

"I'll not let anything happen to you," he said. His eyes glowed, the flames from the wall sconces reflecting in them. He paused, and then added, "I give you my word."

Darcy smiled at that, a wicked and knowing grin. "You like me…" she sing-songed. Darcy clearly did not understand the weight of his promise.

"Do not try me, mortal. You are may be trading beds this eve but you will still be lying with a killer."

Darcy's eyes grew wide. She swallowed back the lump that formed in her throat.

"Let's go," he said, taking her by the arm.

They ascended a set of stairs at the end of the hall they'd arrived in but instead of following them Loki made straight for the wall.

"Um, Loki, mortal here. Can't walk through walls," she said. She pulled back futilely as he pulled her forward.

"You can walk through this one," he said, tugging on her.

Darcy passed through the wall effortlessly and found herself standing before two great doors, each adorned with a giant serpent eating its own tail.

"Whoa," she said. She turned to look back at where they'd come from. She could see the stairs and the hall they'd just been in but they were murky, as though looking through stained glass.

"How?" she started to ask, her finger pointing at the space they'd just occupied, but Loki cut her off.

"Much in Asgard is an illusion," he said, by way of explanation. Darcy could detect a faint whiff of bitterness in the statement but wisely chose not to pursue it.

With a flick of his wrist the great doors opened and Loki ushered her in.

The room was vast, much larger on the inside than it appeared outwardly. A fire was raging in the hearth though it was nothing like any fireplace Darcy had ever seen on Midgard. This one looked big enough to roast an elephant in. As she moved through the cavernous room it seemed different things came to light only to disappear again as she walked; she saw bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling and wondered how anyone could even reach that high. There were settees wrapped in velvet and framed in gold; mirrors that seemed to engulf the whole of the room; she saw what looked like a chess board in one corner, and in another was a writing desk carved from dark wood.

In the back was his bed, easily large enough to sleep four people, possibly more. She wondered briefly how many women he'd entertained in that bed but the thought flitted away as quickly as it'd come. Like the desk, it was carved from dark wood that glowed in the firelight. Four massive posts carved into the shape of wolves' heads adorned the bed and various fur throws added to the effect. She half wondered if he could call the thing to life if he so wished.

"Nice digs," she said as she turned to him.

"Sleep," he said as he pointed at the bed.

"Are you coming with?" she asked with a sly grin.

Loki's eyes drifted to her mouth. He looked to be considering her proposition but then he fixed his gaze back on her eyes.

"No. You require sleep. I do not."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Darcy bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Loki sighed. "I have more important things to tend to."

"You wound me!" she mocked, pretending to stab a dagger through her heart. She stumbled backwards till her knees hit the bed and then she collapsed onto it.

Loki tilted his head and stared at her.

"You almost die and this is how you react?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Now Darcy sighed. She stared up at the ornate ceiling and watched the shadows flickering there.

"Do you know how many times I've almost died?" she asked.

"No." said Loki, curious.

"I was born two months early. My cord was wrapped around my neck. They had to cut me out of my mother and I was in the hospital for a month before I could go home. When I was fifteen I totaled my father's car. Wrapped it around a tree and I walked away with hardly a scrape. When I was nineteen I got caught in the crosshairs of a holdup at the local five and dime. I had my nose stuck in Soap Opera Weekly. I didn't even notice the gun till he pulled the trigger. It jammed. That's why I started carrying a taser." Darcy turned her head so she could look at Loki.

"Now my planet's gone. Everyone I know is dead except Jane. I'm a fluke, Loki. The only reason I'm here is because I just happened to be with Jane when the big guy came down and swooped her away."

She looked back up at the ceiling.

"So pardon me if I don't get all melodramatic. Pardon me if I'd rather roll around in these furs with you than dwell on the fact that I'm a dead girl walking." More quietly she added, "Nobody wants to be a ghost, Loki."

Loki's eyes glistened in the darkness and his lip twitched.

"I see you," he whispered under his breath. He had the sudden urge to go to her, to hold her and explain to her the import of the vow he'd made just minutes before, but he fought those urges and dug his heels into the hard floor beneath his feet.

"What?" she asked as she looked up at him.

"Go to sleep," he said. "I've work to do." He turned his back on her and went over to his desk.

"You're no fun," she whined as she crawled towards the head of the bed and under the furs.

Loki smirked.

She could smell him there, musk and leather and sweat, heady and intoxicating. She inhaled deeply, making a show of it.

"Whatever are you doing?" he asked.

"Smelling you," she said, unabashedly. She plunked her head down into the voluminous pillows face first.

"Goodnight, Loki," she said after she turned her head to the side. "And thank you."

Loki merely grunted in acknowledgment.

He eyed her from where he sat. He admired the way her pale skin shone against the dark furs of his bed. He pretended for a moment, that she was naked beneath them. He imagined her body slick with sweat, her skin heated from the exertion of their lovemaking, her hair sticking to her face. Just the thought of running his tongue along her and tasting her was enough to make him hard but the thought was soon crowded out by another vision, similar in nature but vastly different in tone. In this vision Darcy was lying in bed; pale in death, limp and lifeless, cold, the assassin having had his way with her as it almost had this evening. This vision, though pure imagination, was enough to right the path of his thoughts and dull his desire for her.

He sat up straight, spared Darcy one last glance, and then set to work on finding her would be killer. He would find this person who dared to take what was his, who dared to frame him for the crime, and he would make them pay.


End file.
